


Rain

by bella_my_clarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, One Shot, Rain, bellarke AU, cat lincoln
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:24:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7173644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bella_my_clarke/pseuds/bella_my_clarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy's stuck out in the pouring rain, but at least he's got a cute blonde to offer him an umbrella and some company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

The rain was coming down hard, and Bellamy was caught in the middle of it. He’d seen the clouds start to cluster when he’d left the house, but he assumed he’d have time to get back before it got bad.

Clearly, he was wrong.

Within minutes he was soaked straight through to the bones; his curly black hair clung to his scalp, his t-shirt was nearly a second skin, and he felt water slosh in his shoes where he’d accidentally stepped in a puddle. It was essentially the worst walk home he could imagine.

“Hey,” someone called, their voice muffled under the roar of the rain, but he assumed they were talking to someone else and kept walking with his eyes trained on the space in front of his feet.

“Hey, you!” the person repeated. “The soaked guy with the curly hair!”

Bellamy’s gaze shot up and he swiveled towards the sound. Through the dim light of the evening and the sheets of rain separating them, he could see a girl with light hair half pulled up and bright blue eyes. Unlike him, she was completely dry, because she had a large umbrella hanging over her head. “Um, hi,” he said lamely, struck by how her slightly furrowed brows and slightly parted lips lightened her face.

“You look wet,” she stated, one side of her mouth quirking up for a moment. “No umbrella?”

“Clearly,” he said, squinting through the haze of water between them.

“Well.” She paused and huffed as if frustrated. Then, sighing, she stepped forward and held out the umbrella to him. “Here.”

Bellamy blinked. “What?”

“Take it,” she said, thrusting it towards him again. “You’re going to get hypothermia or something walking in the rain without anything to protect you.”

“Oh.” His cheeks flushed with color, warming his face where the night air had chilled it. “You—you don’t have to do that. I mean, you need to stay out of the rain, too, and I’m already wet.”

The girl shrugged and jerked her thumb towards an apartment building towering to their right. “I live right there, I’ll be fine. I actually just came out when I saw you walking by without a jacket or anything.” Bellamy bit his lip, considering, and she watched him for a moment. “I’m not asking, you know,” she added, a smile working its way across her face. “You might as well take it now; you can give it back to me tomorrow, since I not-so-smartly told you where I live.”

Bellamy sighed. Her logic did make sense, and it wasn’t like he was against the idea of coming to her house the next day. “I have to walk you to your apartment, at least,” he said.

She grinned and said, “All right, sounds good to me,” then moved closer so the umbrella would cover both of them. Their arms touched in the small space; her skin was warm and dry against his.

They walked in silence into the building, their steps falling into sync. It was a nice sort of silence, one he didn’t feel the need to fill up, and neither of them said anything until they reached the door to her apartment. “Thanks for walking me to my door,” she said, turning to face him.

“Thanks for loaning your umbrella out to a random stranger in the rain,” Bellamy replied, a smile itching at the edge of his defenses as he held up the dripping point of the umbrella. “I’ll give it back to you tomorrow, by the way.”

“Sounds fine to me,” She wasn’t very shy about smiling, he decided. He liked it. “I’m Clarke, by the way. I forgot to say.”

“Nice to meet you, Clarke,” he said, and stuck out his hand. It was a nice name; it rolled off his tongue easily, and it sounded strong, like a declaration. “I’m Bellamy.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke said, grabbing his hand, and she sounded like she was testing out his name, too, seeing how it fit in her mouth. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Her skin was warm, her fingers calloused and strong. He hesitated for an entire second before shaking twice – firmly and hopefully casually – and slipping his fingers from hers. “See you tomorrow,” he said, slowly backing away.

“See you tomorrow,” Clarke echoed as she closed the door.

And Bellamy went back into the rain, grinning like an idiot.

\--

“Uh, Bell?” a voice called.

Bellamy groaned and rolled over in bed. “What, Octavia?” he grumbled.

“Whose umbrella was in the front room?”

He sat up, blinking away the tiredness and running his hands through his hair quickly. “Oh, that’s Clarke’s.”

Octavia popped her head into his room, one of her eyebrows raised high on her face. “Who’s Clarke?” she asked, half-curious and half-teasing.

Unwillingly, Bellamy felt his cheeks warm and his mouth curl upwards, and he feigned needing to cover a yawn to hide it. “Just a girl I met yesterday. She saw I was walking in the rain without an umbrella and let me borrow hers for the day.”

Octavia’s eyes widened; she looked strangely uncomfortable. “Oh.”

He sat up straighter, shoving aside the bed-sheets and swinging his legs over the side. “O? What is it?”

She bit her lip uncomfortably. “Lincoln may have...found it.”

Lincoln was Octavia’s cat. He was a big tortoiseshell who had a thing for climbing walls and tended not to move more than five inches from Octavia’s side. She adored that cat (in fact, sometimes Bellamy worried who she loved more, him or Lincoln).

Bellamy frowned, and he felt a knot forming in his chest. “Found it meaning...?”

Octavia visibly swallowed and lifted up the hand previously hidden behind the door. In it was Clarke’s umbrella—Clarke’s ripped, tattered, bitten umbrella.

Bellamy’s jaw actually dropped. “Oh boy.”

“I pulled him away as soon as I saw,” she explained, adopting her rambling _I’m-so-sorry-please-don’t-kill-me-it’s-not-my-fault_ voice. “I thought I shut my bedroom door but when I woke up this morning he was out. I’m so sorry, Bellamy, I would’ve put him in his kennel if I knew he’d do that.”

It took three or four seconds for him to reply. “It’s...it’s okay. I’ll just take it to her and explain, and I have money to get her a new one. It’s not your fault.”

“Bellamy....” she said.

“It’s fine,” he repeated, standing. “I’ll go there now.”

“Well, if you are,” Octavia said, suddenly smirking, “you might want to get on a shirt. And some pants. Not that I think she won’t appreciate the ‘casual boxer pajamas’ look.”

“Oh, shut up, O,” Bellamy groaned, but it was half-hearted and so was his hair-ruffle as he grabbed the ruined umbrella and shut the door between them.

Once the door was shut, he sat heavily on the bed, turning the umbrella between his fingers. It was just his luck that a sweet, friendly, pretty girl lets him borrow his umbrella and his sister’s cat rips it open. And he was thinking maybe she liked him and they could exchange numbers, become friends, maybe....

_Too late now_ , he thought. _Just go give her umbrella back_.

He pulled on some pants and an old t-shirt, slipped into some beat-up running shoes, and headed out, heart pounding. He could feel the blood pumping against the umbrella, which he’d gathered against his chest awkwardly as if to protect it (not that its condition could get much worse). It was a steady, albeit rushed, beat, and he focused on it, clearing his mind so he could think of what he’d say when he got to Clarke’s house. Clearly he had to explain what had happened, but did that go before or after the awkward, rushed _oh my goodness I’m so sorry please don’t hate me_ he was sure to slip in?

Before he felt at all ready to talk to her, he was at her door. Without really thinking about it, he knocked on the door, and within four seconds Clarke opened it. She was in a low-cut blue shirt, dark pants, and a nice black jacket. He didn’t really notice any of this, though, because she was also wearing a very pretty smile that caught him immediately. “Bellamy! Hey.”

Bellamy gripped the umbrella, which wasn’t currently in Clarke’s line of sight, and swallowed hard. At least he didn’t have to fake a smile; her bright personality brought one easily to his lips. “Hey, Clarke.”

“Get home safe? No hypothermia?” she teased.

“Yeah, it was fine,” Bellamy said, and looked down. “But....”

“But....?” Clarke asked, sounding equal parts confused and concerned.

He sighed and bit his lip, simply holding up the umbrella in response, still unable to meet her eyes.

“Oh.” The word was small and seemed too quiet. Bellamy felt his heart shrivel.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “It was my sister’s cat; he got out, I didn’t know until this morning. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Clarke didn’t appear to be listening much until he said that last sentence. “Oh! Oh, Bellamy, no, you don’t have to do that.”

He finally met her eyes; they were soft. “You let me, a stranger, borrow your umbrella, and I got it ripped to shreds. Why wouldn’t I want to make it up to you?”

“Well, first off all I was the one who loaned it out, so I take the responsibility of you stealing or breaking it. Plus, it wasn’t even your fault.”

“So what, you forgive me just like that?” Bellamy asked incredulously.

“I don’t know if there’s anything for me to forgive,” Clarke countered, “but if you want forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven, all right?”

Bellamy swallowed slowly, working his jaw, and nodded. For some dumb reason, he felt tears pricking the back of his eyes; he started talking to keep them at bay. “I still want to buy you another one, though.”

Clarke watched him for a moment, then smiled. “That’s fine with me, as long as I go with you. Who knows if you have good taste in umbrellas or not.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “You do realize your old umbrella is solid black, right?”

“Of course,” Clarke said, shrugging. “Heaven forbid you choose something bright or patterned.”

“So it’s a d...eal?” Bellamy asked, tripping over his words.

“Actually, seems more like a date to me,” Clarke grinned, “but yeah. It’s a deal.”

Bellamy smiled. He’d never really liked Lincoln, but maybe he’d have to thank him when he got home. You know, after his d...ate.


End file.
